Let You Go
by fraidy bat
Summary: Brooke reflects on her love life in the wake of “Don’t Dream It’s Over.” Brooke/Rachel.


**Title:** "Let You Go"

**Author:** fraidy bat

**E-Mail:** fraidybat[atyahoo[dotcom

**Fandom:** One Tree Hill

**Pairing:** Brooke/Rachel

**Rating:** R-ish

**Word Count:** 1302

**Author's Notes:** I don't own anything related to One Tree Hill. It all belongs to Mark Schwann and the CW and stuff.

**Summary:** Brooke reflects on her love life in the wake of "Don't Dream It's Over." Everything I write lately is in the second person. Don't know why.

_She sleeps around a lot, but there's no one special._

You let Millicent get away with saying it because it's completely true. Successful, high profile fashion design in New York makes it easy to have a lot of casual sex, but no one who means more than one or two dates and the occasional booty call. Then again, you can blame it all you want on the lifestyle, the job, the city, the fame and fortune, but you know it's your own fault. There were things you could have had, things you wanted, but these were things you let go of. Things you lost.

She was your best friend in New York. She was your only friend in New York, if you were really being honest with yourself. She worked in some of the same circles you did, doing some print modeling and the occasional runway work. You texted often, went out once or twice a month, and tried to share each other's burdens as best you could even though neither of you had ever been the best at that. She was the friendly face you were always happy to see, even when it was wearing a smirk. She was a connection to life before success in fashion, to a time when New York hadn't been home for either of you. You needed her.

Four months ago, you came back to your apartment after a night at yet another exclusive club with loud music and overpriced drinks. You remember being surprised that neither of you were drunk; you were still buzzed, but nowhere near intoxicated. It was late, and you were sitting on the couch with glasses of wine, laughing about something you can't recall now. She tossed her long red hair and seemed to never stop looking at you. You felt warm with her eyes on you, but you decided it was just the wine.

'I'm so glad you're here,' you said, and your voice sounded tired and sad. She didn't say anything, just watched you steadily and rested her head on the back of the couch. The moment felt suddenly heavier, awkward, like the weight of the air between you had changed. You breathed in slowly, and you don't know why or how, but you knew what would happen before it did. It still confuses you even now, the way you knew it was coming when it had never happened before and things had never been like that with the two of you.

But you were kind of ready for it when she leaned slowly into you and kissed you with warm, confident lips. What you weren't ready for was the way you didn't even think before opening your mouth just a little, inviting her to be that much closer to you. It didn't take long for your hands to thread into her hair, for hers to grasp your waist and run down your thigh and pull you forward so you were nearly in her lap. Terror stabbed at your stomach and set off alarms in your head, but you didn't stop. You _never_ wanted to stop. You felt good with most of the people you slept with, but being with someone this way hadn't felt _real_ in a long time. You knew her, and she knew you, and every movement of your mouth against hers would mean something in the moment, mean something tomorrow, and mean something in a year. The undeniable realness of kissing her and feeling how her arms wrapped tightly around you was simultaneously the reason you wanted to push away and run and why you were desperate to never, ever stop.

When she stood up, she didn't let go of you. It was hard to tell if she led you to the bedroom or if you had steered her in that direction. It didn't seem to matter when she was unzipping your dress and you were pulling her top up over her head. You were both down to bras and panties when your back gently hit the bed and she released your lips long enough to position herself on top of you, hands stroking your cheeks and smoothing your hair back from your face. She looked at you like she was trying to take a photograph. She seemed scared for the first time, trying to catch her breath, and you could feel her trembling when she took your hand and pressed her lips into your palm. Then she kissed her way up your arm and to your throat, and all her fear seemed to have disappeared. You own hands shook a little when you undid her bra and brushed your fingers over her breast. It didn't take long after that for your bra to disappear, and you felt the shock of skin on skin like a painful jolt in your chest. Her hand grazed your inner thigh, and you sucked your breath in, arching your back into the unexpected sensation.

'Do you want me to?' she whispered softly and carefully against your temple, her other hand cupping your face while her thumb moved slowly back and forth over your cheek. You knew it would destroy you somehow, that it would change everything to go this far and be this intimate with her. You had never done this with a woman before, let alone done this with _her_, and you couldn't help but be frightened. But you liked the weight of her on top of you. You liked the way you fit so well with the curves and soft expanses of her body. And you liked the way she looked at you, as though she wanted to keep you forever. You wanted to be destroyed if it meant you could have these things and have her this way.

You nodded against her touch and bit your lip as her hand slipped under the waistband of your panties. You dug your fingernails into her back and kissed her as hard as you could, so hard it almost hurt.

Later, when the room was dark and you both had your underwear on again, she held you close and pressed soft kisses against your shoulder. You closed your eyes and relaxed into her, all at once finding it strange and wonderfully normal to be falling asleep like this with her.

'Brooke…' she said, breaking the silence. You felt her warm breathing on your bare skin. 'Brooke, I love you.'

You should have said it back, should have said, 'I love you too, Rachel,' but you didn't. You stayed quiet and tried not to cry. She fell asleep, but you couldn't. You got up early and went to the office. You left her a note saying you would call. You struggled to stay calm all day with Victoria bearing down on you. It had suddenly been too real.

You didn't call. You hardly spoke to her at all. You couldn't fathom actually taking the next inevitable step after what happened with her. Victoria would kill you, it might affect your work, your business, your other relationships, and it all might fall apart anyway. So when Victoria made you fire her, you didn't fight it very much at all. You let yourself be bullied into cutting her out of your life. You called her to tell her you had to let her go, that it wasn't personal, it was just business. It wasn't just business and never would be.

_No one special_, Millicent had said tonight. Standing here alone after your own mother proved she didn't feel obligated to love you, you wonder if there ever will be someone special. There could have been, and if you had been any less of a coward there would have been, but you let her go.

You don't bother to hold back the tears.


End file.
